A dirt filled heart
by AaviCharlie
Summary: Mercy, a florist, saves Pharah from a dangerous situation and let's the woman tend to her wounds at her flower shop-home for a while. After that it's surprisingly hard to let go.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"I'm very good with flowers, so I might as well be good with you."

The blonde woman's remark got the Egyptian woman silent and obedient to the tending touch. Pharah had no idea how she had gotten herself into a situation where a florist would patch her wounds up in a flower shop in the middle of the night during a thunder storm. Or how she was so easily calmed down by a single phrase.

The blonde looked at the dark haired bruised woman for a short moment before putting ointment to a particularly nasty scrape. Then she let out a soft approving humm with a small hint of amusement. There she was, sitting in her flower shop and trying to make a pretty woman bleed a little less than she was 30 minutes ago.

"Uhm, what is your name... I kind of forgot to ask. I'm Fareeha."

Pharah's voice was a bit faint but loud enough for the strange woman to hear it and get her gaze back on her. She smiled calmly and then told her name at the same time as she pulled out a shard of glass from Pharah's knee.

"MERCY!" Pharah's yelp was full of pain. Mercy continued to disinfect the wound in the woman's belly. "Yes, that is my name," she joked to lighten up the mood. She really was sorry that she caused pain to the new acquaintance she had sitting in a chair in the middle of a rug stained with dirt. "And if you stay still and do not try to talk too much I will be merciful and finish this off."

Pharah took a deep breath and closed her eyes, gesturing that she was going to toughen up if Mercy just hurried up. The florist hummed again and rose so that she could see the disturbingly dirty wound on Pharah's chest.

"I'm going to need you to remove that thing that used to be a shirt, if you don't mind," Mercy voiced the fact slowly and tugged on the stained grey fabric. Pharah was a big sports player. She did not get flustered, never, not happening. At least that's what she hoped was the deal. Instead she got dragged back to her high school times when she confessed to her first girlfriend. With shaky hands she threw the bloody shirt to the ground and let Mercy continue. The pain was hard to manage but she was the most scared of needles. Needles in the hands of a florist. Why did a flowershop keeper even have surgical needles and equipment?

"It's done, you can relax your admirable abs now if you want to." The remark made Pharah grab her torn shirt from the ground quick. Too quick, because soon she winced from pain and got a soft slap on to her knee. "Hey! I did an enormous job on those stitches, don't you dare to open them up. You and me both get the bad end then."

Pharah stopped, as if she could have done the movement again from the sheer agony she was put in. She muttered an apology filled with nausea. That's when the florist reached to her left, took a bucket and shoved it into the Egyptian's hands like it was something she did every day. And then, finally, Pharah let it all out. Literally.

Pharah woke up in in an enormous memory foamed bed with warm orange-black blankets and silver pillowcases. Lot's of pillows and pillowcases, she though groggily. Then she let out a confused yelp but couldn't move a muscle from exhaustion. "Where am I," she spoke silently to herself and with hard work got her hand on her belly, which gave a warning sting from the wounds. Pharah winced.

Pharah could only remember her throwing up from all the stress and pain. Then it all went to black. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "That woman," she mumbled to herself. She could hear someone walking around and other sounds which implicated that someone was in the kitchen.

It took Pharah at least half an hour before she got herself sitting up in the bed and reaching for the water glass next to it. Water did more good than all the tequila's she had been having lately. The egyptian rubbed her eyes slowly, just to make sure she was there, alive and relatively well. The ruckus from the kitchen had slowed down and she could hear faint humming of rhymes.

Pharah realized a bit late that she only had her underwear on. She felt lost, understandably, without her clothes but soon she noticed an green old chair next to the pastel green dresser. On the chair there was a worn but soft red hoodie that fit even her. There were also some baggy grey sweatpants and warm woolen socks. And a note that had petite handwriting.

"Come to the kitchen when you wake up. - Merciful florist," Pharah exclaimed at the doorway and looked at Mercy, who was making blueberry pancakes calmly, with a warm smile on her face. "And you came. You could have just ran away from the window and break all your bones." It made Pharah chuckle. "Sorry, I was drunk. And in pain. And uh... how did you even get me here?"

Mercy pointed at a weird art deco chair that was next to a set table. Pharah didn't mind sitting down, since all parts of her body were hurting like hell. "I'm a florist, I have muscles too," Mercy explained and laughed wearily. "No, to be totally honest with you, you weigh a little bit more than a bag of dirt. But I managed. And now you are patched up, in fresh clothes and soon getting breakfast to ponder this all over with. I can't let you home yet, not without something to eat and an explanation."

Pharah sighed deeply but nodded honestly grateful for all that Mercy had done for her. So, when she had a plate of syrup coated pancakes with ice cream and a cup of coffee and fresh strawberry juice, she finally opened her mouth.

"I'll start right from the start, maybe that's the best."


	2. Chapter 2 - We meet again

"Would it be easier if I asked some questions?" Mercy handled her coffee mug delicately and it made the tremble inside of Pharah a little bit calmer. She hadn't started her story and the clock kept ticking.

Mercy cleared her throat from the tar that was coffee. Then she smiled supportingly at the stranger in her kitchen who clearly had a rough time. "How did you get beat up? I'm not stupid, some of your wounds are from human hands."

Pharah stared at her coffee so intimately they could have gotten married right away. Then she gulped down the whole thing like it was a shot. It made her throat have an icky feeling. Then the woman sighed and ruffled her hair. It was painful.

"It was the usual I guess. I got wicked drunk to... feel something when I was not training. And then I went and pissed off some gang members. And fought like a bull to get something going on." Pharah sighed again, this time with a saddened tone. Then she peeked a look at Mercy's face. Her helper must have thought she was insane. Instead the blonde nodded in all seriousness and offered a lavender pastry to the defeated Egyptian.

"And how did you end up together with the glass and near my jogging route?" The question filled the room and resonated with uneasiness. Pharah fiddled for a moment before looking defeated at her feet and confessing. "I... climbed a tree and threw myself at a glass roof of some bus stop. Then I ran to the woods and stumbled around untill I practically ran into you."

"And there I took you straight to my place and patched you up," Mercy concluded the whole thing quickly and sighed too. Then she rose a bit to pat Pharah's knee. "Maybe the last question," she purred and the dark haired woman nodded tiredly. She found talking to Mercy very soothing. More soothing than talking to any of her relatives. And her mom was nice. Just very strict. Mercy gave Pharah a little bit of time before voicing her thoughts. "Why? Why did you drink so much and hurt yourself like that?"

Pharah was frozen for a moment. She rarely thought about it. No, she thought about it all the time. Every minute of her living being.

"I think this coffee is really good," Pharah mumbled with shaky hands. She looked at the empty cup nervously and waited. Finally, after a good minute or two Mercy smiled and nodded sadly, "it is. I choose the blend very carefully." Mercy was quiet for a while before she tried to offer her help with changing the bandages. This time Pharah rose on to her feet, wincing from pain as she did so. Then the woman mechanically walked to the sink and washed the cup and her plate. She laughed nervously something about being in hurry.

Mercy looked at Pharah quietly. Then she suddenly took out her cellphone and tried to sound as casual as possible, "Hey, do you want to get each others contacts? You know, if you need some flowers? I'm even better with them than I was with you."

Pharah didn't decline from the offer, since she really didn't even want to leave. All she actually wanted was to get back to the soft bed Mercy had and listen to the blonde woman's voice all day. Mercy had an healing effect on her. So she gave her contact info quickly before running to the stormy day.

"We really shouldn't see like this," Mercy mumbled as she tried to help Pharah stay on her feet and not to scrape herself any more. The dark haired beauty groaned quietly swinged a bag at the blonde, accidentally getting them both down to the wet ground. Why did it always have to rain?

Mercy recovered from the fall and helped Pharah up again, which was hard and worth a reward. "And what do you have in there Fareeha," Mercy asked calmly and started to walk towards her shop. "It's... your clothes. I had to return them," Pharah answered with nausea covering all inches of her demeanor.

"My clothes? And you had to hurt yourself again for that sweetie?" Mercy's voice was jokeful but also serious. She did want to see Pharah but not in that shape. The Egyptian groaned again and whimpered the pain out slowly. "No, that... that was other things." She was so clearly reluctant to tell the truth that Mercy just let it go and sighed heavily. "Okay, let's get you in and patched up. It's gonna hurt a lot less this time if you don't try to move while I have sharp objects in my hands. But you know that already." She took a deep breath and started to waddle towards their all familiar destination.

"You did good," Mercy noted at Pharah who sat at the pastel blue kitchen with weird furniture. The bigger woman nodded absentmindedly and let out a soft groan once again. "You haven't been answering my messages either, so I was surprised," Mercy talked and smiled with no bad mentality towards Pharah who looked like a dog who had done something bad. "So, do you want your tea without sugar this time too? Or we could have coffee but it's quite late if you want to sleep soon."

"Without sugar please. A-and I will get out of your way in a mo-" "No, no and no, you are injured and barely inches away from infection with the previous wounds. You stay. Please. Sleep and clear up your head, why don't you? You must be drunk again to drive your motorcycle against a tree. You could have been killed."

Pharah went quiet. She drunkenly looked at her hands and nodded ashamedly. "I don't want to die," she whispered and made Mercy listen very carefully. "I just wanted to see you again and wanted to get here quicker after getting some liquid courage. I'm no brave woman. I'm dumb. And drunk. And it was probably illegal."

The blonde slender woman stared at Pharah for a long time. Then she took the same cup the muscular woman had the last time and placed it next to her. Then she sighed with warmth, "I'll heal you up no matter how many times you crash, don't worry about it, sweet stranger named Fareeha. I'll treat you like I treat my flowers." She paused for a moment before placing her hand on the woman's head and patted gently. "I just need you to maybe tell me more after you are sober?" Pharah nodded reluctantly but managed to smile faintly.

When Mercy walked by Pharah, the bigger woman suddenly grasped the blonde's hand. The hold was soft and damp and made the pale woman tense up. Then she realized what had happened and she smiles. Pharah took a little time but eventually she spoke, this time more quick and more clearly drunk. "Where are you going to sleep? I can take the couch or whatever, you don't need to sleep anywhere weird."

Mercy thought about how cute her strong and drunk visitor was. She just wanted to give the woman a hug. "I don't have a couch, only armchairs. You do not fit there." Pharah puffed her cheeks and shook her head. "Absolutely not! Why not sleep with me... not with me, like that, I mean... on the same bed? Unless I reek too much of alcohol. Or am too unpleasant."

Mercy giggled. She giggled wholeheartedly and placed her hand on Pharah's shoulder. "Oh dear me... You do not reek now that I have disinfected practically your whole body. And you are unpleasant at all, quite the opposite. The sweetest drunk I have healed." She agreed on sleeping on the same bed, since the armchairs were nothing compared to her luxurious bed.

Pharah fell asleep fast. So fast that Mercy didn't even manage to climb into the bed with her before she already slept soundly. "Sleep well," Mercy whispered and turned off the night lamp. Then she just stared through the ceiling window. Occasionally she also glanced at Pharah and made a small soft chuckle. So weird, she thought to herself. And such a charmer, she continued. Not once did a woman literally crash into her life. Twice.

Slowly Mercy drifted into peaceful sleep that included some reddening scenes she blamed her too many consecutive years single on. When morning would come, she would need to get more information about Pharah.


	3. Chapter 3 - Fluttery Heart

The morning seemed to repeat itself. Pharah slept in late and Mercy made breakfast. The Egyptian had a tea with no sugar and pancakes and Mercy had coffee and the same sugary savior. Pharah had a hard time asking questions and Mercy offered to help while the other woman fidgeted with her pancake.

"How long have you had a problem with alcohol?" Mercy's question was blunt and she knew it. She lifted her other leg over her knee and tilted her head. Her eyes stared gently at the beautiful, worn young woman. This time she was ready to even deck the athlete down if she tried to escape and get hurt again. Preemptive procedure.

As the question hit Pharah, it made her shiver visibly. At first it looked like she was going to bolt but instead her tired voice escaped her lips, "For a year now, I think." Mercy nodded and poured more tea for the Egyptian woman.

"And what happened one year ago, sweet heart?"

Pharah winced and put the cup down so that it wouldn't break. She was feeling the hangover and the pain of truth beneath it. "I... started my professional football games. And broke up with my girlfriend," Pharah whispered with a hoarse voice. Then she continued with a sad laugh, "it wasn't the most fulfilling relationship."

Mercy closed her eyes for a second to think carefully how to continue. "I'm sorry," she told honestly and quickly touched Pharah's hand. The dark haired woman didn't mind, just kind of drifted off to staring at nothingness. Mercy tried to steer her back into the real world by continuing her speech. "Alcohol is a common way to drown feelings. But why did you mention your sports?"

Pharah tilted her head slowly, so slowly that Mercy was a bit creeped out by the gentle giant. "Why? Oh, it's... I am the kind of woman who can't stop moving. And it's very competitive. So I..." "Obsessively exercise," Mercy continued for Pharah and got a nod. The blonde woman sighed and bit into her pancake.

Mercy let out a small voice that included all her inner frustrations about the situation. Then she fidgeted with her coffee mug. Minutes passed. Pharah seemed really uncomfortable after revealing such painful things about herself. She was also ashamed of her problems.

"Listen, this is a weird request from a florist who patched you up... but could you please stay with me for a while? Like a sleepover. I can't trust you with those wounds. And maybe company would do me good too." Mercy stopped talking just to lock her gaze with Pharah's. The other woman was seemingly astonished about the request. At first she though about declining, since she wanted to get back to bad ways of dealing with her feelings. Instead she ended up giving an slightly different answer. "I guess that wouldn't hurt. As much as ramming your bike in to a tree." Mercy smiled cheerfully.

The day was going to be tough for Mercy. She needed to hurry to her shop downstairs and make a huge order of flower arrangements. Pharah sat behind the register and helped keep the doors open while Mercy was head on into roses and lilies.

"You work really hard," Pharah noted when hours had passed. Mercy stopped for a moment and let her tired back rest. "This shop is my life. I wouldn't want to lose it," she smiled as she spoke. The gesture made Pharah feel conflicted, happy feelings.

The slow day for customers left room for chatting. They talked about food, about favorite movies, jogging routes, video games. Suddenly Mercy stopped what she was doing with silver-blue ribbons. She glanced at the clock and let out a sigh of relief. "We are ready for the day. Finally. Now we can go buy some snacks and watch those action movies you mentioned. And treat your wounds again of course." Pharah nodded and managed to smile. She admired the work Mercy had done during the hours she had just sat there. Being sober with the blonde really cheered her up.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Mercy tilted her head at the question and tightened her grip on the shopping bag. Pharah didn't take much time before voicing her confusion about the blonde's remarkable medical skills and tools.

"I was a doctor student before all this," Mercy laughed and smirked playfully at her companion. "And I always have tools for fixing strange women from the woods." Pharah lifted a brow and laughed too. "I though I was the only one." Mercy nodded and whispered, "and you have been the best of my patients."

Pharah didn't quite get Mercy. She was too helpful. And sweet. And she had a good taste in movies. And food. Her taste in interior decoration was weird but still managed to impress Pharah. And there she was, sitting on a big weird sofa and enjoying a movie full of female heroines who didn't lack courage unlike her.

Mercy took a quick peek at Pharah during the movie. The woman was very content with the action blasted at them. And it was a good thing. Mercy wanted her to be as distracted as possible for as long as possible.

"We didn't go get my clothes," Pharah mentioned when the thing occurred her mind. Mercy nodded quietly. "You crashed your bike and it's a holiday, so your bus doesn't drive the route." Pharah was baffled. Then she smirked, "I have no idea how you know my address or the bus I take when I'm not using my bike." Mercy leaned closer to the other woman and tilted her head, "would you be ready for the truth sweetheart?"

Pharah didn't know what to make with Mercy's statement. It sounded like flirting. She gulped her embarrassment down her throat before trying to act tough. "I'm ready for w-whatever... darling." She looked away. She was not indeed good at flirting. Mercy giggled calmly and leaned even closer. The tension was reaching the roof. She even took a long break and just intensely stared at the nervous wreck that was Pharah.

"Come closer," she cooed. Pharah obliged and slowly they were just inches apart. Then Mercy finally revealed the answer. "You told it to me drunkenly after you woke up in the middle of the night. And invited me to cuddle."

Pharah yelped and scrambled further away from Mercy, flustered. She couldn't deny that happening because it pretty surely did. She hazily remembered the dream like sequence. "It was rather cute, I didn't mind," Mercy commented with a soft voice. "T-that doesn't help me at all!"

After a moment of fun, Mercy let Pharah breathe. "Back to the original topic. You can use my clothes, no worries." She let out a calm humm and looked at the end credits. "Do you want to watch another, Fareeha?"

Pharah's heart fluttered when Mercy said her name. "P-pharah is fine too," she managed to mumble. "Pharah suits you too," the smaller woman stated and stretched so that her hand got really close to her temporary bedmate. The Egyptian thought for a moment before touching the hand briefly and smiling, "maybe we should go to sleep. The bed has our names on it." Mercy couldn't agree more.

It was nice getting into the bed without being wickedly drunk. Pharah just enjoyed the soft surface and the sound Mercy was making in her sleep. The day had been far better than any other days in her life lately. And when she drifted to sleep she didn't see any nightmares.

The next morning hit Pharah hard. She had the tremors and she was anxious to get a run. She didn't have the right shoes, which worsened everything to tremendous proportions. Even to that point that she lashed out on Mercy who was simply in the wrong place in the wrong time. She regretted it right on that instant though.

"Sorry, I think I'm just... I need to go, really, before this gets worse," Pharah muttered quickly and grabbed her jacked from the edge of the chair. Mercy, who didn't even budge from the outburst, sighed disapprovingly and followed the Egyptian to the door leading to the flower shop.

"Maybe you should stay a little longer," she tried but Pharah was adamant in her ways. "I need to go," she insisted and shot a pleading look at Mercy, who couldn't force the athlete to stay. She would have liked to but it would have to be Pharah's choice to stay.

"I don't want to patch you up again. You will come back, won't you?" Mercy noticed how she sounded almost asking. She admitted that she didn't like the idea of never seeing Pharah again. The taller woman sighed and smiled a strained smile. "You don't have to. And of course I will. I just need to go to my practice and all that. I'll call you, okay?" She reached her hand to touch Mercy's shoulder. It was a small gesture of attempted closeness. The blonde woman answered with a touch to the hand on her. She smiled but couldn't help feeling alone and doubtful when the door closed in front of her.


	4. Chapter 4 - Sickness inside

Mercy knew she shouldn't feel like that. She knew Pharah was just a stranger who happened to share a night with her. A night full of laughter. She looked at her phone again, frustrated. She buried herself tighter to her blue blanket burrito and reached for a another tissue. As if not getting messages from Pharah wasn't bad enough, she had to get the fiercest flu. First she had been getting some fluids in the hospital and then she was condemned to bed-rest for a week. A week without her flowers. Her old friend promised to come and take care of things downstairs but she didn't trust the big Russian army woman with delicate flowers.

It was the third night in the bed reading chick flicks, eating bad takeout and watching bad tv-series. Mercy could feel herself deteriorate into the strawberry red linens. She sent another message, trying to reach for Pharah but this time she didn't even expect for an answer. She was in no condition to care for the alcoholic disaster. She regretted her thoughts immediately. "She has her own problems. I can manage waiting a bi-" a doorbell interrupted her mongering.

Mercy sniffled and waited for a moment. The doorbell rang again. When she was sure she wasn't hallucinating, she took her robe and started to climb down to her shop and the door. "If it's you Pharah I'm going to make you sorry you came," she mumbled as her body yearned for rest.

Mercy stared at Pharah. She leaned against the door frame and breathed heavily. She lifted her hand and tried to utter words of anger. Instead she whispered a quiet plea, "don't you dare to leave me like this... unless you are too drunk to see, I'm damaged and lifeless."

Pharah looked at Mercy for a couple more seconds. She was wearing clean jeans, a hoodie and was carrying a sports-bag. And she was sober. Her eyes were filled with sadness and graveness. And when Mercy looked at her, she nodded and lifted the florist to her arms with one swift swing, making the blonde yelp. "H-hey, I didn't say you could..." Mercy didn't finish her words, just pressed her head against Pharah's chest. And dear, how much she wanted to just stay there.

Pharah carried Mercy to bed and rose, mumbling awkwardly, at first incoherently. Then the real words came. "You're in no condition to be home. Why didn't you call anyone?"

Mercy coughed and looked at Pharah with a small hint of humor, "if you haven't checked your messages and voice mails, that's not my problem. But according to you being here you have." The dark haired athlete seemed genuinely resentful. "I came now, late but still... why didn't you call anyone you are more close to?" Mercy groaned quietly and buried under her blankets. "Because I felt like I wanted your company. We had fun. I wan't that again," she whispered weakly. The room was dimly lit so it was hard to see. Pharah wasn't quite sure but she assumed Mercy was or had been crying. And it didn't make her feel any better. And she didn't even want to.

"If you let me stay here with you, I'd like to take care of you until you are better." Pharah's movements were very limited. She was stiff and awkward. Mercy noted all that and smiled faintly as she recognized how much they were both hurting. "It's funny," she mumbled feverishly, and finally Pharah sat on the edge of the bed. "What is?" Pharah asked quietly, placing her hand on the soft bed. "We were strangers just under two weeks ago. Now I'm here, annoyed at you and thankful that you came here," Mercy replied slowly.

Pharah hesitated with her answer. She wasn't sure if she was even supposed to do that. But something inside made her put her hand even closer, inches away from the burning up blonde. "I read every single message you send me. I wanted to be sober when I came here. And now you need me more than I need you."

Pharah wasn't the best as cooking but her food was still better than bad takeout. She managed to get Mercy a good amount of chicken soup that was filling and light. She even did the dishes after they had eaten. She came back to Mercy with a black box that made the blonde one tilt her head at. "What is that? Did you carry that in your bag?" Pharah nodded and smiled almost shyly. Then she opened the box and revealed an old console.

"I thought we could maybe play some games when you can," Pharah explained quickly, as if Mercy was going to interrupt at any minute and laugh her out. Instead the sick woman smiled warmly. "I love the idea." Pharah felt a little bit better about the situation. She just wanted to make things right.

Mercy was too weak to leave the bed but Pharah stayed there with her. They played cards and talked, this time even going a bit to the personal questions. There was tension but neither of them wanted to acknowledge it at that moment. It was too precious.

Pharah laid under the covers next to Mercy. They weren't sleeping, she knew that. Mercy sounded like she was in too much pain just breathing. It took a while but Pharah couldn't resist the urges anymore. She turned on to her side and stroke Mercy's hair lightly. "Are you asleep," she asked waitingly.

Mercy opened her eyes slowly and turned to her side too, enjoying the touch she was receiving. "No," she answered and asked why at the same go. Pharah seemed bothered but managed to voice herself. "Can I ask you a more sensitive question? I promise to answer yours in exchange."

Mercy blinked quickly and made a sound to indicate it was okay. Pharah was still keeping her hand near the woman's head and the blonde could feel the warmth of her hand.

"Why did you say you are damaged and lifeless? They were odd words if you were talking about the flu."

Mercy didn't change. She just stared in the darkness. Then she slowly reached out her hand to place on Pharah's cheek. The bigger woman reacted with stiffness at first but soon melted to the touch. The florist clearly tried to gather her feverish thoughts so she gave her time.

"You have your problems, Pharah. Mine are already past me, but still there. Loneliness is the worst. Losing loved ones is the second." Mercy's voice cracked a bit towards the end. She caressed Pharah's face with her thumb and continued before the other woman could speak. "So I am damaged and lifeless right now. And you have a very soft face."

Pharah got flustered. She slowly allowed herself to feel Mercy's hair more. "Do you want me to explain why I haven't been answering to your messages?" The blonde shook her head and suddenly moved against Pharah. Her feverish body was burning up. "Let's do it like we always do... at the breakfast table." Pharah let out a small laugh and tried to figure out what to do with Mercy against her.

Pharah made sure to cover them both with blankets, even though she was feeling hot with the living radiator against her. She even petted Mercy's hair until she fell asleep. After that she stayed awake for a while to think about the mess she was in. She was starting to get attached. And it never meant anything good in her life. But Mercy was soft, breathing against her dark skin. She was beautiful, Pharah thought as she looked at the smaller woman. She was kind and patient. The Egyptian felt her heart ache once again when thinking about the facts.

Before Mercy had fallen asleep she had scolded herself for getting so close to Pharah. She was just so lonely. And damaged. And lifeless. The cold really was just an excuse. All the other times she was the more assertive one. Now she knew she could be a bit less that. At least for the duration of her sickness. After that she would gladly take her usual demeanor back.

As Mercy drifted to sleep she could only think about Pharah caressing her tired body. Hair, actually, but it was a part of her body.

Pharah and Mercy both were reluctant to let go of that sickness.


	5. Chapter 5 - Decissio

Once again the morning shined it's light and life to the apartment. This time Mercy wasn't in any condition to make breakfast. She barely even got awake at the same time as Pharah. The dark haired woman chuckled lightly and felt Mercy's forehead just to make sure about her next move. Slowly she lifted the sleepy woman on to her arms and made her way to the kitchen.

"Wake up," Pharah whispered gently as she placed the smaller woman on the odd chair. Mercy whimpered slightly and buried deeper down to her blanket. Then she opened her eyes and groaned. "I just fell asleep," she complained with a strained voice, her eyes puffy and red, her red cheeks radiating heat. "You need to eat something," Pharah insisted and couldn't help but smile at the conversation. She liked how Mercy got so much more whinier when sick.

Pharah got around on making porridge with lot's of honey and strawberries. And a big glass of orange juice, served in a half a liter lilac cup. She placed the servings at the table slowly because she had drifted to staring at the half asleep Mercy. She could feel her own heart beat. And the waves of sadness were also trying to drown her relentlessly.

"I demand you to wake up again," Pharah laughed softly and enjoyed the moments before the conversation. Mercy didn't open her eyes but a small smile made it's way to her lips. Then she spoke, "what if I don't want to." "Then I'll have to force you," Pharah answered quickly, no mercy.

"Oh, so you'll feed me?" Mercy replied with a smirk and opened her other eye to peek at Pharah. The Egyptian got stiff. Then she burrowed her fingers on to her hair and took a deep breath.

"Are you flirting with me?" Pharah's voice wasn't serious but it wasn't pleased either. Mercy reacted to the words slightly with opening both of her eyes and taking a better posture. Now they both were all woken up.

"Yes, I am. Don't you like it?" Mercy feared for the answer. She feared that she would get herself even more hurt than she was already. Pharah on the other hand didn't like that she was in that situation.

"No.. I mean, no, of course I like it! That's not the point. You are older than me, don't you need a bit more mature one in your life? And I'm not exactly the perfect girlfriend material." Pharah had talked fast and feared Mercy wouldn't have caught even a little bit of her sentences. Instead the woman smiled faintly, trying to smirk. "You are just making up excuses Pharah."

Pharah knew the fact quite well. She was scared of getting too close with the beautiful florist. "I know," she sighed and continued, "do YOU think it would be a good thing?" Mercy lifted a brow and wearily reached for Pharah's hand. "I think it depends on how you are letting things go, sweetie. On many aspects." She pressed her forehead on the table's cold surface and smiled when she felt a squeeze on her hand.

Pharah sighed deeply. She was lost but Mercy gave some light to the situation. And there she made a decision. "So... if I would let myself get drawn even more to you, how would that affect my... problematic lifestyles?"

Mercy let the table ease her hot head for a while. She acknowledged what Pharah had said but didn't answer before she knew her words wouldn't be slurred.

"I can't force you into recovery on any of your problems, Pharah. But I can offer help when you need it. You know yourself that you are to lose everything if you continue." Mercy had lifted herself back into a proper position. She stared at Pharah gently, gently caressing the woman's hand with her fingers. The tension was electric, reaching all the way to the dark ceiling. They both knew the answer and reaction were important.

Mercy's harder stare softened straight away when she noticed a swift change with Pharah. As if a weight had been lifted from the bigger woman's shoulders. "I can't promise I can change in one night," she stated. Mercy didn't need that. "I... need time to think what I do on the exercise," the Egyptian continued. Mercy understood. "I... I think I need help with my alcohol problem, Mercy," Pharah confessed. The blonde woman smiled as widely and softly as she could. "If I could stand up you would be getting a warm hug," she told the flustered giant.

"Your habit of not answering messages," Mercy started while Pharah was carrying her back to bed. "Is because I'm drunk or hangover so often and you deserve better," the athlete admitted with shame showing in her eyes. The blonde nodded and closed her eyes. "It's okay," she mumbled and caressed Pharah's shoulder. "You are a strong woman, and I don't mean your muscles."

The day had Pharah feeling torn. She had been sober far more than the usual. She had been out of practice for so long that the withdrawals were already peeking out. But being with Mercy was soothing. She managed to plug in the console and the blonde was feeling decent enough after sleeping a few hours so they were able to play some scifi fantasy RPG games.

"You chose a healer again," Pharah laughed and Mercy nodded seriously. "Always. I once tried a more aggressive tactic but it didn't work out. I was fierce, though." She waved the controller at Pharah. "You play warriors or other offense stuff," she noted and paused the game to grab a tissue. There were so many of them it felt like they were swimming in them. Pharah chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah, what else? We truly suit our roles."

Pharah found out that Mercy did not allow backseat gaming at all, even though she was sick. After the dark haired woman once again tried to steer the wheel, she suddenly found herself under the smaller woman. Mercy breathed heavily but managed to smirk gently. "I do not need you to tell how to defeat the Elven dragon. I know how to do it, trust me. Maybe you should just be cuddling me while I show you how to do the combo?"

Pharah could feel Mercy on top of her too clearly. It was mesmerizing. She looked at the woman and opened her mouth but no words came out at first. Then she closed it and tried again, stumbling on her words on the way. "Y-you want me to hold you?" That was definitely more flirting, Pharah thought to herself. And she couldn't resist.

"You smell nice," Pharah mumbled obediently as she gently pressed her nose against Mercy's neck and watched as the woman rocked the map. "I smell like sweat sweetie, but thanks. I should take a shower soon," Mercy mumbled under her breath as the dragon tried to eat her character. Pharah still meant what she had said. There was a sweet hint of flowers.

"Are you sure you can do it by yourself?" Pharah managed to mumble as she looked at the weak Mercy who barely could stand for one minute. The blonde shook her head and groaned, "unless you join me I'm not going to get anything productive done." It was not a tone of flirting but she had a soft smile on her face. A smile that made Pharah feel a bit better. But also to get embarrassed. And now she had to answer to Mercy, on top of all.

"I mean... I c-could come help you, if that is okay with you," Pharah stuttered and kept her hands around Mercy. She was sweaty too, after being under the blankets so long, next to a human radiator. A shower wouldn't hurt?

Pharah tried not to look at the goddess that was Mercy. Even while sick she managed to look just like the statues. Mercy on the other hand admired Pharah while trying to stay on her feet. After they both got undressed the stronger woman helped Mercy to the shower and soon soothing warm water made the air steamy.

Pharah scrubbed Mercy's back gently and kept making sure the woman could stand up. And when she was getting dizzy, Pharah lifted her up and let the florist continue the cleaning. The intimacy was something she hadn't experienced often.

When Mercy got tired she pressed her head onto Pharah's shoulder. "The water feels good... you feel good," Mercy mumbled and smiled warmly. "I could feel asleep again," she continued and closed her eyes but Pharah nudged the woman gently. "Don't sleep yet, we need to make sure to get you dry and burritoed soon enough."

Pharah wasn't sure if she was supposed to be worried about Mercy. She kept asking about it and it seemed like the woman didn't seem to think her flu anything to think about. Pharah laid there, on the soft bed, Mercy on top of her sleeping and breathing badly. She had been trying to read but it was hard it one arm and a very cuddly sleeper. And she was constantly worrying.

I think I'm getting a crush on her, Pharah though to herself while giving a small kiss on to Mercy's forehead.


End file.
